


i know they wind (right back to you, back to you)

by graveltotempo



Series: A Very Sterek Summer Fest 2020 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Speaks Spanish, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, Injury, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prom, Song: Some Nights (fun.), Songs, back to you by fork city, derek dance monster, derek is three years older, inappropriate use of twilight references, kind of song fic at the end, macarena, stiles has a broken leg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graveltotempo/pseuds/graveltotempo
Summary: “Oh my god,” suddenly said Stiles, the second after the camera clicked.The werewolf looked at him in worry, “Are you okay?”Stiles’ face was half mortified and half hysterical as he turned to him. “Do you have any idea who I am?”Derek blinked. “... Stiles Stilinski?” he tried, and Stiles slapped his arm, shaking his head.“Prom night, broken leg because of a supernatural creature, my father is the sheriff who just allowed his child to go to prom with a creature of the night…” he listed off, and Derek’s face went from confused to pained. “I’m Bella fucking Swan.”ORThe one where Stiles breaks his leg and can't go to prom
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Very Sterek Summer Fest 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851298
Comments: 14
Kudos: 384
Collections: A Very Sterek Summer fest 2020





	i know they wind (right back to you, back to you)

**Author's Note:**

> okay just so we all know i am british and know absolutely nothing of american traditions so apologies for that in advance i was too lazy to search it.

“To your left!”

Stiles immediately ducked and rolled to his left, just in time to avoid the creature being hurled over the place were his head had been moments ago, and tried not to let his frustration show.

Stiles didn’t ask for much, he thought, using his spark almost as an extension of himself. He wasn’t a selfish person. He ate his veggies, said please and thank you, and tried to make plans that didn’t end up with ‘kill everyone who looks at the pack wrong’.

All he wanted was to go to enjoy the end of his senior year and the summer before he went off to Berkeley with the pack, and maybe live long enough to get a diploma. That’s it. That’s the only thing he asked for, damn it.

His requests wasn’t  _ unreasonable _ , he didn’t think so.

“Cora, 3 o’clock!” he shouted, right as Allison cocked her arrow in direction of the orc that had been about to hit the werewolf.

Because, of course, orcs were a thing, and they decided that Stiles’ board with ‘79 days without a supernatural disaster’ needed a change.

At least they were every bit as ugly as Tolkien had described them; humanoid shaped but incapable of human speech and with an aptitude to crushing people’s limbs with their hands before eating them; they feasted on human bones, and had been grave digging in Beacon Hills. When the pack had asked them very kindly to choose somewhere else - read Derek had alpha roared them to walk away - they had immediately attacked them.

At least subduing the orcs was way easier than they had anticipated. They were stupidly easy to kill, even though their bodies were stronger than a human’s. 

All you needed was to get to their necks - as plushy and weak as a human’s - and cut it off. Or, as Lydia was demonstrating by throwing a molotov cocktail, burn them. They were stupidly inflammable.

After dealing with Peter Hale, Kate Argent, Gerard Argent and kanima-Jackson in sophomore year, and then an Alpha pack and a druid in Junior year, the Hale Pack had earned a bit of a reputation. Any pack who managed to destroy all of those enemies without losing a single member - and it still scared him how close they had gotten to losing Erica and Boyd - was a pack to be careful of.

Of course there were still things like stupid witches or reckless hunters or nomad supernatural creatures roped in by the Nemeton that tried to attack them, but nothing as deadly as that. 

With Derek actually working on being a better Alpha after his sister basically came back to him from the dead, and the pack actually starting to work with each other instead of against one another, they had grown and gotten stronger.

Moral of the story, the orcs barely counted as a real threat to them. They weren’t even a blip in their danger radar.

Which is why Stiles got sloppy.

Most of the orcs were laying dead on the ground, the few alive running off once it became clear they were outnumbered and the wolves of the pack running after them, and Stiles  _ relaxed _ . He put his guard down.

He barely had time to hear Lydia’s panicked “Stiles, look  _ out _ !”, before an arm wrapped around one of his leg and squeezed and, 

“FUCK!”, He shouted, pain  _ hot searing pain _ , shooting up his leg, but he was very much sure the sound of the bone breaking was 100% louder than his shout.

As he fainted from the pain, he smelt burned flesh and a howl.

+

Stiles was laying on a hospital bed, glaring at the white ceiling with his arms crossed around his chest.

He was aware that the entire pack was somehow in his room - probably because Melissa was a queen among peasants - but he refused to look at them.

Said nurse sighed. “Stiles, sweetie. You were very lucky, considering.”

_ Considering _ . 

Considering that the orc had him in his grasp and could have continued breaking every bone in his body, had Lydia not immediately thrown a molotov cocktail at him. Considering that the way the orc had held him, the bone could have been fully shattered, had Stiles not planned ahead as  _ usual _ and cast a protection rune on himself.

He didn’t feel very lucky. “My leg is still broken. I’ll be in a cast for the  _ whole  _ of summer.” he grumbled, eyes still on a faraway point of the ceiling.

He felt Melissa’s hand in his hair, and pushed off any memory of his mother doing the same, instead glaring  _ harder _ . “I know. I’m sorry.”

He heard her muttering something at the rest of the pack, then the sound of the door closing.

Immediately, Scott was on him, distressed. “God, Stiles I’m so sorry. We thought everyone of them there was dead, we didn’t-”

And no, Stiles couldn’t have them  _ upset  _ about this. Like yeah, their concern was nice, but they weren’t the reason he got hurt.  _ He  _ was the reason  _ he  _ got hurt, and that, more than anything, upset him.

He told them as much, finally meeting Scott’s upset face. “Dude. It’s not your fault. I let my guard down. I shouldn’t have,”

“You  _ really  _ shouldn’t,” immediately said Lydia, strawberry blonde hair appearing in his field of view and he grimaced. Her face was angry, but behind the anger, he could see genuine concern. “Jesus, Stiles! I had no choice but to throw that molotov cocktail even though I  _ knew  _ there was a chance that it could hit you too.”

He heard a low threatening growl at that, but he didn’t look away from Lydia. The girl ignored it too. “But you didn’t. You did what you had to.”

The girl huffed, then carefully wrapped her arms around his chest, careful of not moving his leg. Not that Stiles could feel  _ anything  _ from said leg. “Don’t make me do that again.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was guilt under that bravado. Too many times they had to risk killing each other for the sake of Beacon Hills, and it never got any easier. “I’m sorry,” he said, instead of promising. It was  _ Beacon Hills _ . He couldn’t make that promise.

And she knew that. She slowly released him, her careful mask immediately coming back and he turned to look at the other people in the room.

Isaac was standing beside Allison a little behind Scott, the blond pretending to be unaffected by it all - but Stiles knew  _ better  _ \- and the huntress looking exhausted next to him. Boyd and Erica were on the other side of the room, the blonde almost asleep on her boyfriend, but both gave him a nod when his gaze found them. Then came Cora, standing with her back on the wall, eyes betraying nothing like the true Hale she was.

Finally his eyes met Derek. The man was staring at Stiles with an intensity that would have freaked him out or had him calling the cops a few years ago, but that now Stiles was able to read for what it was. His mouth was set and his eyebrows were basically sentient enough to show disapproval of the whole situation but his eyes told the real story: Derek was worried. Concerned.

His heart did a little flip at that - which was promptly recorded by the machine and had Stiles mentioned he  _ hated  _ hospitals? - but he kept his face as passive as possible. “I’m fine.”

The werewolf’s concern melted into irritation. Really, it was impressive how little it took for Stiles to achieve that reaction in the Alpha.

“You’ll be in crutches or wheelchair till the end of the summer, at  _ least _ .” he told him, like Stiles didn’t know.

“I’m alive,” pointed out the brunet, and Derek’s face went blank.

For as good as he was at reading Derek, the wolf was also very good at making himself impossible to read in particular instances. 

Cora huffed, like she was able to read her brother and Stiles had said something stupid - which was probably the case - but that had basically become their way of measuring anything. (“ _ You burned off half of your arm and it will take weeks to heal, _ ” “ _ But I’m alive. _ ” “ _ You destroyed half of the school, _ ” “ _ But I’m alive. _ ” “ _ We could have died! _ ” “ _ But we’re alive. _ ”)

“You’ll have to do your duty as Salutatorian on a wheelchair, if at all,” told him Isaac, and Stiles froze.

Not at the salutatorian thing. Him and Lydia had spent the entire basically battling it academically for Valedictorian, and the teachers had been very afraid when they had made their final decision, even though both Lydia and Stiles had already known who was going to be doing what. 

Actually being seated for the whole time seemed pretty nice to him.

It was the other thing that had his eyes widening and maybe it was because of the meds in his system, or maybe because Lydia and the others had actually made him look forward to it, but his voice broke when said, “I can’t go to prom.”

The whole pack looked alarmed at his voice, Erica slapping Isaac’s arm - “What did  _ I  _ do?” - as they came to stand close to him enough to touch him.

Stiles had never cared for prom. And he still didn’t have a boyfriend - no mind, stop trying to show him Derek’s face every time he thought of the b word - so it wasn’t like it was important.

But it was going to be the last night of their childhood, in a way. With some of the pack - only Lydia, Scott and Allison - going on holiday straight after graduation, and the fact that not all of them would be going to Berkeley - so far only Stiles, Cora and Erica were going, much to Derek’s horror - prom night would be the last chance for them to be together and celebrate as a  _ pack  _ for a long time.

They all had almost matching fits, courtesy of Lydia and Isaac, and it was going to be the best night  _ ever _ : alcohol, his pack, alcohol, making fun of Isaac, alcohol, seeing Harris for the  _ last  _ time in his life, alcohol, being a normal teenager for a night and had Stiles mentioned  _ alcohol _ ?

“Of course you can go to prom,” tried Scott, and Stiles’ lower lip wobbled.

“But I can’t,” he whined, blinking at the rest of the pack. “I’ll be stuck on a wheelchair and be causing problems and then I won’t be able to dance with everyone and cause trouble, and I don’t think I can stand on crutches the whole night. I’ll be missing  _ prom _ ,” he complained, putting a hand over his face and surprised to find it wet with tears. “I can’t believe I’m  _ this  _ upset over missing prom!” he added, laying back down on the bed.

He felt Derek’s hand on his shoulder, comforting him - and was it fucked up or what that he knew it was Derek’s hand without turning to check - and turned blindly in the direction of the hand, pressing his cheek on the back of it.

“You’ll get to go to prom,” told him Derek, and Stiles snorted at the vehemence in the Alpha’s voice.

Fucking orcs!

* * *

Stiles slowly moved on his crutches until he was standing at the top of the stairs, a glare etched on his face as he looked down at his father.

He knew it wasn’t the man’s fault. Hell, after he had found out about werewolves, he had sat Stiles down and had asked him seriously if Stiles wanted to leave Beacon Hills. Stiles had been 17 then, and if the man really wanted, he could have dragged him away, screaming and crying.

But he hadn’t and when Stiles had told him how he  _ couldn’t  _ leave his friends -  _ his pack  _ \- the man had simply nodded in agreement. And even when his face turned thunderous and he opened a bottle of whiskey because Stiles came home injured, he accepted Stiles’ decision and did his best to help him.

However, wasn’t it cruel of the older man to demand that his son dress up in his prom clothes so that he could at least get some pictures? Especially after that painful video call with the rest of the pack at Lydia’s house before they went off to the dance.

Watching the matching  [ dresses ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/34/1f/30/341f301a9c3345f2bb2281799b0a8165.jpg) Lydia, Erica and Allison were wearing - pink for Erica, blue/green for Lydia and grey/black for Allison - that were at the same time matching the bow ties on Boyd and Scott’s suits and Cora’s  [ suit ](https://assets.teenvogue.com/photos/5e6ab17348539c00085c494e/master/w_400%2Cc_limit/asos2.jpg) , was sad. Isaac was going to be going as stag with Stiles, but after the unfortunate break - pun intended because if Stiles was an invalid, then he had the right to  _ milk  _ it - he had quickly found a girl to go with him.

Stiles didn’t know if it was luck that the dress of the girl he found - Harriet, a friend of Lydia’s - matched his  [ suit ](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0/f2/albu/g8/M01/1A/04/rBVaV1wa_DmAE0ErAAGEAWyjYRg408.jpg) or if he had held auditions or something. Isaac was the sort of person who made the second option very much a possibility.

Still, Stiles had been okay with going along with with him.

The Sheriff looked almost choked up when he saw him standing over, in his floral red  [ suit ](https://perfecttux.com/image/cache/catalog/Mens_Tuxedos/2020/mj336s-2-1-1024x1024.jpg) and Stiles went from irritated to bashful. “It’s just a suit,” he muttered, holding tightly on the crutches.

The man just shook his head, pulling up a camera - an honest to god  _ camera  _ \- and snapped a picture. “You look wonderful, son. I never thought-”

He didn’t finish the sentence, and Stiles was thankful for that. 

‘ _ I never thought I’d see this day _ ’.

The years after his mom’s death were rough, and the months after Scott was bit were just as if not harder. The fact that they were both alive was a blessing.

“You could have taken this tomorrow, dad,” he still complained, even as he posed and smiled for the camera.

The man huffed. “It’s your prom night.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say that it didn’t matter since he wasn’t  _ going _ , when the doorbell rang. He frowned even more when, instead of appearing confused or at least annoyed at having to stop taking pictures, the man looked actually  _ happy _ , before disappearing towards the main door.

“Stiles, come down!” he called before opening the door, and Stiles’ frown grew.

“Who is it?” he called, even as he slowly descended the stairs. What? He was  _ curios _ . Did his father call the pack over so that they could take pictures with Stiles before they all left for the party? Because while a little sad, that would cheer him up a little. 

He finished his slow descent down the stairs, and turned around and then froze.

Uh.

“ _ What _ .” he said, voice high even to his own ears.

In his defence, Stiles had been expecting to spend the whole evening in his bedroom when his father left for work for the night shift killing zombie to  _ cope _ .

So he was a little confused watching the scene in front of him.

“What?” he repeated, and Derek shifted awkwardly in the door.

Because Derek - ??? - was standing at his door in a golden  [ suit ](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0/f2/albu/g2/M00/AA/50/rBVaG1YfrNeABNdPAAIK9JRl9bw593.jpg) that perfectly matched Stiles’ one, what looked like a corsage - ?!? - in his hands, the same corsage that the rest of the pack had. Well, the corsages were a little different from each other, but all of them had the big red dahlia in the middle.

Derek squared his shoulders, the same way he did whenever he was about to start a fight. “Stiles. I would like to take you to prom,” said the werewolf, and Stiles almost wavered on his crutches.

Which reminded him, “I can’t. My leg,” he started, and Derek gave him an almost fond yet annoyed look. There it was. The patented Stiles Stilinski Irritation.

“Trust me?”

And  _ fuck _ . 

Stiles trusted Derek. Stiles  _ really  _ trusted Derek, he trusted Derek more than anyone in the world - sorry dad - and the crazy thing? Derek trusted Stiles too.

Derek  _ knew  _ and  _ understood  _ Stiles in a way none of his friends ever could, and when faced with that, how was anyone surprised that Stiles had fell in love with him?

So he looked at the man, and slowly nodded. “Yeah. I trust you,”

Derek’s irritation disappeared, one of his blinding smiles replacing it - and hell  _ yeah _ , yet again Stiles managed to make Derek Hale  _ smile _ ! - and Stiles smiled back, a besotted “I’m so in love with you” look that Derek somehow  _ couldn’t read _ .

Before remembering his father still standing to the side, a knowing look on his face. Stiles shoved his embarrassment aside in favour of pointing a finger at the older man. “You  _ knew _ !”

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, even as he motioned for Stiles and Derek to stand closer together. “Of course I did. He came over to ask for my ‘blessing’ to take you to prom,” he told them, and Stiles turned to grin at Derek as his father snapped some pictures.

The werewolf’s ears were burning red, much to Stiles’ immense delight. “You asked for my hand to my father, Derek Hale?” he asked heart skipping a beat at his own words and a shit eating grin on his face, and the werewolf refused to make eye contact. “What if I said no?”

This time it was Derek’s turn to grin, “As if,” he told him, carefully putting the corsage on Stiles’ lapel. And well… he was right. Derek probably didn’t know how right he was, and hoped that Derek didn’t read in his sudden flush the fact that the werewolf could ask Stiles to follow him almost anywhere and the boy would go. With lots of questions and words and complaints, sure. But he’d still go.

+

“This isn’t the school,” pointed out Stiles, once Derek’s Camaro stopped.

He hadn’t really been paying attention on the drive, heart beating nervously in his chest as he fiddled with Derek’s car radio. For once the werewolf hadn’t growled at him to stop it, but had complained about most of the content Stiles stopped on.

So he was a little confused when he looked up and found himself outside the loft.

“I’m aware,” told him the wolf, and behind the ‘ _ ugh, Stiles is SO annoying’ _ tone, he could hear a little bit of nerves. “Do you need me to carry you or can you manage?”

Part of Stiles wanted to say ‘yes, carry me’ just for the drama of it all. But he knew that Derek was dick enough to carry him in the most awkward way possible with his stupid werewolf strength, and he didn’t think his ego and his feelings could handle  _ that _ .

Instead he just grabbed his crutches and followed the older man as they went inside. Well, Derek sort of followed Stiles, since he seemed really worried the brunet would slip on the stairs and fall backwards.

He didn’t know if he should be flattered that Derek cared enough to do that or simply annoyed that he was thought as being that much of a klutz, so he settled on moving as fast as he could to put an end to that situation.

Then Derek opened the door of the loft and Stiles felt his jaw hit the floor for the second time that day.

The loft was… completely transformed. 

The various couches and furniture the pack had bullied Derek into buying was pushed to the corners of the room. There was only one couch left uncovered at one side of the vast living room, and a few coffee tables around with snacks and drinks sitting on them. There was a long red carpet that definitely had  _ not  _ been there the last time he was there, and a camera poised ready pointing at one of the window. 

But the most beautiful thing were the lights. 

Dozens of fairy and Christmas lights and stringed up light bulbs hanged from the ceilings, bright glowy and  _ beautiful _ .

Stiles wavered on his crutches as he blinked in the scene, putting a hand on his mouth. “Oh my god.”

Derek shifted next to him, obviously quite pleased with himself. “You like it?”

“Dude!” he nearly shouted, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Oh my god… dude!”

He didn’t have the words. No one had ever done anything like that for him. It was like Derek had gone and brought prom to  _ him _ . It was the most…  _ romantic  _ thing he had ever heard of, and it came from his friend. 

Derek had done this for him as a friend, because he felt bad for Stiles, but for one night, just for this night, Stiles could pretend. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, and Derek wouldn’t even know.

“I love it,” he finally said, and if possible Derek looked even more pleased. “As if there was any way I wouldn’t  _ love  _ this. How did you...?”

“Lydia helped,” he said, shrugging. “And the pack will be coming here for the afterparty. So then you can celebrate with them, even if you have to sit down because your leg hurts or something.”

When Stiles could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, the werewolf’s ear turned a little red and he cleared his throat. “Anyway, the camera. You can take a picture there and we can edit it later if you want to make it look like those pictures they take at the prom-”

“Oh no, mister,” finally said Stiles, words coming back to him. “You’re taking the picture with me.” If Stiles was going to have one night of pretending, he would pretend to hell and  _ back _ . 

Derek didn’t protest as much as Stiles had expected - if he didn’t know any better Stiles would go as far as saying he looked  _ eager _ \- and, after setting the camera, they stood side by side, crutches on the floor as Derek shifted them so that most of Stiles’ weight was on him.

“Oh my god,” suddenly said Stiles, the second after the camera clicked.

The werewolf looked at him in worry, “Are you okay?”

Stiles’ face was half mortified and half hysterical as he turned to him. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Derek blinked. “... Stiles Stilinski?” he tried, and Stiles slapped his arm, shaking his head.

“Prom night, broken leg because of a supernatural creature, my father is the sheriff who just allowed his child to go to prom with a creature of the night…” he listed off, and Derek’s face went from confused to pained. “I’m Bella fucking Swan.”

“That would make me Edward and  _ no _ ,” firmly said the werewolf, and Stiles catalogued the fact that  _ Derek knew Twilight  _ for later.

“I mean, you used to do a lot of stalking and creeping of the young Stiles, back in the day,” he pointed out, immediately delighted when Derek’s ear turned red. “Remember when you came into my bedroom while I was not even there? I bet my scent  _ enticed  _ you and that’s why you came to me instead of Scott.”

The Alpha didn’t deign that of an answer, instead motioned for him to sit down. “I’m going to get you a drink, like a proper date even though you insulted me.”

“My hero,” cooed Stiles settling down on the couch. “What you got?”

“Fanta, coke, pepsi, doctor pepper, vodka, and a lot of punch,” listed off the werewolf.

Stiles’ eyebrows were at his hairline. “How many of them are alcoholic?”

Derek fixed him with a look. “The whole pack is coming over after,” he told him. “ _ All  _ of them.”

“You’re the best! Get me anything, you know what I like,” 

A few moments later Derek was back with two glasses of punch - with the little umbrella and lemon, hell yeah! - as well as a small remote held between his shoulder blade and his cheek. He handed one glass to Stiles before grabbing said remote.

“Before I turn on any song,” he warned, shaking his finger a little. “Isaac made me this mix when I told him what I was doing. This has no reflection on my own music taste.”

Stiles just pressed his lips together, drinking his punch. The jokes  _ would  _ come, seemed to say his eyes and Derek sighed, clicking play.

And Stiles nearly choked when started laughing, having recognised the song the moment the first note was played. 

“Dale a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena,” he sang clicking his fingers together while Derek groaned in his drink. “Que tu curerpo es pa’ darle alegria cosa buena! Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena… hey Macarena, AHAI!”

The werewolf kept shaking his head as Stiles confidently sang the next line now shaking his butt and moving his hands while still seated. “Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena, que tu cuerpo es pa’ darle alegria cosa buena! Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena… hey Macarena, AHAI!”

When the actual lyrics of the songs started though, he stopped singing, instead turning to Derek expectantly. “Come on dude! You have to dance and sing along!”

He expected Derek to snark back or say that he  _ refused  _ to dance, but Derek did neither. Instead, he gave a put upon sigh even as he stood up and, much to Stiles’ disbelief, started doing the macarena.

And singing, because of  _ course  _ Derek was fully fluent in Spanish, what the  _ fuck _ .

“Macarena, Macarena, Macarena! Que tributo a los veranos de Marbella. Macarena, Macarena, Macarena, que the gusta la movida guerrillera, AY!” He sang, still a little stiff and embarrassed.

But it was the best thing ever for Stiles, and some of his excitement seemed to rub on the werewolf, because once he saw the huge ecstasy on his face, he actually smiled and started dancing more comfortably as they both started singing.

“Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena, que tu cuerpo es pa’ darle alegria cosa buena! Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena… hey Macarena, AHAI!” they shouted. “Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena, que tu cuerpo es pa’ darle alegria cosa buena! Dale a tu cuerpo alegria macarena… hey Macarena, AHAI!”

Then Derek alone again. “Macarena suena con el Corte Ingles! Y se compra los modelos mas modernos. Le guestaria vivir en Nueva York… y ligar un novio nuevo, ay!”

“We have been studying and struggling with Spanish for years, dude!” he complained, as the song continued. “You could have mentioned you were fluent,  _ Miguel _ ,” he added, earning a little glare at the nickname.

Then the Alpha actually smirked at him, coming back to sit. “You never asked.”

The brunet glared, the song coming to an end. “You  _ ass _ .”

Whatever Derek was going to say next was forgotten when the new song started, and Stiles lit up, immediately shouting along, because Isaac was a  _ god  _ among humans and Stiles would never mock him ever again. 

“Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck… some nights, I call it a draw! Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle, some nights I wish they’d just fall off!” he sang, thumping his leg and clapping his hands. “But I still wake up, I still see your ghost, oh lord I’m still not sure what I stand for, oh… what do I stand for? What do I stand for?” He gave Derek a very dramatic stare. “Most nights… I don’t know… Anymo-oo-re, oouh ooooh! Ouuuh ohh! Oh oh! Oooh oh! Ouuh ohh! Ouuh oooh! Oh oh.”

Derek kept watching him, bemused as he started shaking his head like he was a rock band member. "This is it, boys, this is war! What are we waiting for? Why don’t we break the rules al-rea-dy? I was never one to believe the hype! Save that for the black and white! Try twice as hard and I’m half as liked but here they come again to jack my style!”

“And that’s alright,” sang Derek, once the boy pointed at him.

“That’s alright,” harmonised Stiles and he actually wasn’t half as bad.

“I found a martyr in my bed tonight… she stops my bones from wondering just who I.. who I… who I... aaaaam… Oh, who am I?”

“Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end! Cause I could use some friends for a change!” shouted Stiles, shaking the punch glass to the sky and putting a hand on his chest. “And some nights I’m scared you’ll forget me again, some nights I always win,”

“I  _ always  _ win,”

Stiles grinned at Derek, continuing, “But I still wake up! I still see your ghost, oh lord, I’m still not sure what I stand for oooooh! What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most night… I don’t know!”

“Oh come on…” sang Derek, handing him a packet of crisps and Stiles snorted, song forgotten. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t even get a bowl for these crips,” he told him, opening the pack of crisps.

Derek raised a single eyebrow. “And who was going to be washing the dishes?”

Stiles shrugged. “Hey, it’s  _ my  _ prom!”

“And I cooked, didn’t I? The rule is whoever cooks doesn’t wash any dishes,” he reminded him, crossing his arms.

The teenager laughed. “You gave me crisps!”

“Do you  _ not  _ want them?”

Stiles held them tighter to his chest, sticking out his tongue. “Grump.”

“Dick.”

They stayed like that for a while, Stiles actually standing a couple of times to attempt ridiculous dances but mostly singing at the top of his lungs to whatever song came on while Derek watched and, more often than not, joined in.

After a seated rendition of Katy Perri’s  _ Firework _ by Stiles, the music changed and Stiles frowned, not recognising the song. “What is this?”

Derek made a face, shaking his head in his amusement. “It’s from that show Isaac watches. The one with the queen you say looks like Cora.”

“Oh,  _ Reign _ !” he immediately remembered. “Oh this is a proper slow dance!” 

The werewolf seemed to suddenly decide something, and stood up. The tip of his ears were red again, and Stiles knew what he was going to ask even before he said anything. Still, when the words, “Will you dance with me?”, left his mouth, he was surprised.

He ignored the blush creeping on his cheeks and his neck. “The cast will get in the way…”

Derek shrugged. “Just put the cast on my foot. It doesn’t have to be a proper dance, and don’t say it!” he warned, but Stiles was already grinning even as he stood up.

“Edward let Bella dance by keeping her standing on his feet,” he sing sang, fighting a little shudder as one of Derek’s arms came to rest on his waist.

“I hate you,” informed him the werewolf, but he was already moving, a little slowly, but still moving.

“Do not,” answered Stiles, trying to not look at Derek’s eyes and face and failing.

_ So put a poesy in your hair _

_ Pretend you couldn’t give a care _

_ Whistle past the graveyard _

_ Even the dead deserve a song. _

Derek’s eyes were on him, that stupid intensity of them feeling safe instead of scary all focused on Stiles like that.

_ Let the moon do what she does _

_ She don’t need to make a fuss _

_ (I…) She don’t know she shines for us _

_ (Oh…) something tells me that she does _

Derek twirled them incredibly slowly and gently, and Stiles let out a little laugh. “This is so ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m doing my best!” said the werewolf, faux annoyed.

_ Follow the signs right back to you _

_ back to you, back to you _

_ I know they wind right back to you _

_ back to you, back to you _

The lyrics of the song were surprisingly accurate.

Every sign in Stiles’ life, everything he did seemed to lead him right back to Derek, no matter what he did.

He felt Derek’s face in his hair, and his heart quickened a little at that. 

_ Time after time _

_ I follow signs (I follow signs) _

_ I know they wind (I know they wind) _

_ Right back to you _

_ Back to you, back to you _

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to have a real prom,” whispered the older man, and Stiles sighed. “I know you were looking forwards to it.”

Stiles wanted one night to pretend, one night to act like this was the norm for them. That Derek was doing this because they could be a little more than friends. 

But he hadn’t realised how much his brain craved reality, how much he wanted certainty about everything, until the words, “Did you do this  _ just  _ because you wanted me to have a prom?” came out of his mouth.

_ Lower you eyes _

Derek moved his face away from Stiles’ head and the teen’s heart started beating fast all of a sudden. Stiles wanted to take it back, act like he hadn’t just asked that question, but his mouth felt frozen.

_ Leave me a sign! _

The Alpha’s eyes were their normal hazel colour, but it felt like they were burning Stiles.

“No,” he said, and everything slow down.

_ Follow the signs... _

No the music actually slowed down, as Stiles’ eyes went impossibly wide at the words, at the admission.

_ Right back to you... _

But it wasn’t an admission, not really, not yet, he could mean -

_ Back to you, _

Then Derek pressed his lips on Stiles’ and everything started up again.

_ Back to you _ !

His arm staying on his waist even when Stiles cupped his cheeks in his own, was the only reason they didn’t ruin on the floor, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to care, because he was kissing  _ Derek _ . He was  _ kissing _ Derek.  _ He _ was kissing Derek.

Derek was  _ kissing  _ him. Him, Stiles.  _ Him! _

_ I know they wind right back to you _

_ Back to you, back to you _

“Oh my god,” he managed, against his lips, a sudden thought hitting him. “You  _ totally  _ asked my father for his blessing for my hand, you  _Neanderthal_!”

Derek, who had looked not pleased with the kiss being interrupted, had the audacity of rolling his eyes. “I’m three years older than you, of course I’ll tell the sheriff that I’m in love with his newly turned eighteen years old son before taking him on a prom I had constructed as our first date.”

_ I trust the signs so I may find my way to you _

_ Back to you, back to you _

He huffed, but Stiles had latched on one thing only. “You  _ love  _ me?” he repeated, eyes wide as saucers. When Derek stiffened, eyes going panicky, he was quick to unfreeze, pressing a kiss on Derek’s lips, smiling. “Dude! That’s perfect, cause I love you too.”

_ Follow the signs right back to you _

_ Back to you, back to you _

Somehow, Derek  _ actually  _ looked shocked at that. “You…  _ love  _ me?”

As if it wasn’t obvious to  _ anyone  _ with eyes. “Sourwolf. I’ve been half in love with you ever since the summer after sophomore year,” he admitted, shaking his head. “And if I wasn’t I would be after you threw me a  _ fucking prom  _ and made sure I wouldn’t miss any High School tradition.”

Derek actually looked besotted - so  _ that  _ was the expression Stiles had been unable to catalogue till now - as he moved in and gave him another kiss.

This was the best  _ prom _ ever.

Although, speaking of prom night traditions…

“You know,” he said, pressing soft kissed on Derek’s lips. “There is one more prom night tradition that we could indulge in…” he trailed off, moving his eyebrows suggestively.

Derek’s smile turned almost sinister and was it weird that Stiles was very much turned on by that? The hand on his waist moved a little further down, fingers almost digging in the soft of his asscheeks as Derek’s mouth moved to his ear and whispered, in a dirty and sultry voice, “I’m sure most restaurants and McDonald’s deliver.”

Stiles bursted out laughing and Derek also cracked up at his own wit.

“Ass!” managed the brunet, and the werewolf winked.

“Not tonight, honey.”

Stiles laughed harder.

**Author's Note:**

> i was halfway through writing it when i realised stiles was being very much like bella at the end of the first movie and then spent the next half an hour laughing when i realised HOW MUCH LIKE BELLA stiles is, good LORD


End file.
